


Won't You Cleanse My Soul

by Sketchyfletch



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Affection, Bath Sex, F/F, Light Dom/sub, Other, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-21 00:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13728777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sketchyfletch/pseuds/Sketchyfletch
Summary: Drabble. The bathroom scene from book VIII, but Nadia decides to relieve her stress in other ways than just cuddling.





	Won't You Cleanse My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Nadia. MC is mine and female, but pronouns are out so you can imagine whatever. Cross-posted to my tumblr.

Nadia has been holding you close, arms looped around your waist, the both of you relaxing into the perfumed water. The stresses and fears of the day have all but evaporated, the fanged worm a distant memory smothered by the warmth of the long-limbed countess pressed against your back. But you can’t quite relax. This is the closest you’ve ever been, the most intimately she’s held you, and her fingertips are trailing down your arm in a fashion that prevents you from completely surrendering to the soft comfort of the bath. You remember how she held you in your bed, the words she whispered to you before Asra walked in, and she hears your breath catch. A chuckle brushes against your ear, and her arms unwind from you. Before the whine makes it past your throat, she murmurs.

“Sit on the edge for me.”

You obey, even though the bath is warm and the air above it is chill enough to make your skin prickle. You want to slide back into the water but don’t; the countess is looking at you, amusement shifting to hunger, and with her order expressed as a low purr you don’t even hesitate. In fact you move with almost embarrassing eagerness to the edge, only to blush as the splashing evokes a rich puff of laughter from Nadia.

“Patience is a virtue, my magician. Let me show you.”

She stands, a goddess rising from the sea. The water ripples around her legs as she moves forwards with the grace of her cheetah, and rests a hand gently over your chest. For a moment she meets your eyes, and you know she can feel your heart flinging itself against your ribs. 

Then she pushes, slow but firm, and you lie back against the tiles. They are hard and a little cold, a confusing contrast to the warm water lapping against your calves. The two sensations are already distracting, and then the countess moves forward until you part your thighs for her. She stands between them, curling her hand on your chest until her fingernails press lightly into your sternum. Then, with the slow smile of the hunter, she begins to drag down. 

You’re so exposed, spread out for her, and there is nothing to grip to but your own hair as she moves her hand at a torturous pace. She hums in delight as you fail to smother a high, soft moan, your legs tightening a little around her hips. All you can focus on is those four fingers and the way they trace their path down you, until they’re almost there, until she softens her touch from fingernails to fingertips, and you’re aching for her to reach where you need her most - your head falls back, your hips arching towards her…

And she stops.

When you raise your head to ask why, you realise how much your breathing shakes. She looks amused, and you have an inkling of what she’s going to say before she speaks. 

“Do you remember my rules?”

“R-rules?”

“That I was to be obeyed. That if I asked you to beg, you would.”

Your breath comes out in a halting gasp. “Yes.”

She leans forward, the warmth of her body covering yours, to steal a deep kiss from you. When you start to lift your hands to her, she pins them back against the floor. Her mouth kisses a hot path along your jawline, halting at the column of your neck to drag in your skin with her mouth until a sharp jolt rocks through you. Her hot breath touches your ear as the scent and feel of her fills you up so much you can’t breathe. “Beg me.”

You don’t want her to move from where she is but you need her to touch you. Fire licks under your skin; from the moment of Asra’s interruption, this moment has occupied almost every waking thought, and now you can’t escape it. Nor do you want to. “Please.”

She chuckles as she moves. She takes your hands, folding them together over your stomach, wrists crossed so she can grasp them both in one hand. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Please, countess!”

“Please…what do you want me to do?” Her free fingers trace on your thigh, maddeningly light. 

“Touch me, Nadia, please!” Your voice echoes a little from the marble walls, but you’re beyond caring who might have heard. The countess looms over you, her hair cascading around her shoulders, looking more beautiful than anything or anyone you’ve ever known, and she relents with a broad smile.

“As you desire.” 

Even as wound up as you were, you didn’t realise how close you already were until the first pass of her fingers; the briefest touch makes you gasp. Even now she plays with you, finding the places that make you writhe and toying around them until you’re crying out for her to do more. She strings you out, bringing you to the edge and then letting the heat cool for a moment before bringing you back again. And again, until your thighs are pressed tight around her and your toes curl, and everything in the world boils down to Nadia and the magic she weaves for you, on you, within you. You feel it within you, pulling back for the final surge, and this time Nadia doesn’t let it slip away, she encourages it, with a curl of her fingers that sends bolts shooting through you, and then it’s upon you and your face turned to the side, cheek pressing against the cold marble as you scream her name and the waves crash down on you. 

Even then she doesn’t relent, skilled hand coaxing more from you, never letting you down from that wave, until another one comes along to overtake you. You can hear her delighted laughter and the faint echoes of your own cries, and then finally, the shimmers begin to fade, and you are left weak and gasping with the setting sun bringing fire to the glorious mane of Nadia’s hair as she leans over you.

“Very good, my magician.” She draws you in for a long, slow kiss, and with your wrists released you wrap your arms around her neck and almost disappear into it. You could melt against her, into the water. Your skin still buzzes and thrums, and the heat that had been cooling spikes again as she winds her hand in your hair and tugs it just enough that you have to tilt your head back a little. You knew that Nadia would not be satisfied so soon, and have it confirmed by the white teeth that now flash at you as she meets your eyes once more. “But I think you still have more to learn.”


End file.
